


like a butterfly, you must be reborn

by RoseateGales



Category: Cinderella (2015), Disney - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, One Shot, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 01:56:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20899748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseateGales/pseuds/RoseateGales
Summary: A promise, prayer, and sign of gratitude—have courage, and be kind.





	like a butterfly, you must be reborn

**Author's Note:**

> this was written about two years ago on an old roleplay blog i had, as a character study and headcanon post, inspired by one of the tie-in novels. i'm still pretty proud of it, so i thought i'd post it here for archival, too.

Time passed. The sun had set, its radiant light long gone, faded into bleak darkness. In the attic where Ella was locked away, these conditions were magnified—more so now than ever, as she lay weeping against the wooden door, the draft chilling her to the bone. Yet little did she care. How could she? All her energies had been exhausted in _caring_, however nothing seemed to be of use. The very things that provided her hope, kept her heart beating with a lifeblood, were still ripped away, leaving naught but an ache that sought to claim her being.

For so long, this was the state she fought against. To prove it, she bore a weary appearance. Golden curls turned into matted knots, dark circles framed brown irises, what were delicate hands now had become covered in callouses; a glowing radiance transformed into ashen skin against thin, brittle bones.

_Cinderwench! _

_ Dirty Ella!_

_CINDERELLA!_

That was what they called her. And, as she was taught, names have power, so that was what she would become. How satisfied the Tremaines must be—Lady Tremaine especially. To the end, Ella had tried to be kind, to have courage to do what was good and right, to honour the promises she made to Mother and Father; but alas, cruelty continued in its selfish path, seeking to rob an entire future, in spite of the good that tried to overcome it. Never before had anger been properly allowed to embitter her heart, yet now, as she cried out to no one, it gushed through her veins, with grief and despair following its wake (over and over and over again, unrelenting in revenge.)

What would—could—have been brighter days spent with Kit would never be, stolen from within her grasp. Their eyes would not meet; their smiles would not share whispers of joy to each other; they would not converse in (_barely_) disguised _I Love Yous_; they would not share the warmth of an embrace, the delicacy of a kiss; and they would not be intertwined together in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, for better or worse.

But, if there was a fragment of hope to be found in her heart still, it was for that he would be able to find true love, even if she were not the blushing bride to be wed to him.

At last, dawn began to approach, illuminating the darkened room with faint sunbeams. Slowly, the light spread into every nook it found—including the hole in the floorboards, where Ella kept her most treasured possessions. This realisation drew her forlorn gaze towards the hidden crate; her body’s movements following not far behind. She pushed herself up, despite tired limbs making protest at what felt like lengthy steps against the cold floor.

When her knees knelt on the ground, her palms swiftly wiped away remaining tears that blurred her vision, only to have another strong wave of bitterness replace them as she inspected the objects. Mother’s portrait was cracked; the paper butterfly Father gifted her, torn. True, they were only material items, but these were some of their last remnants they left for her, and even those were not spared from damage.

_I’m sorry, Mother… I’m sorry, Father… I’ve failed you. I tried to have faith. I tried to uphold my promises. But I couldn’t._

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Countless mumbled apologies spilled forth from her lips. Tears continued to pour out, in spite of her body’s reaction to the pain they caused. From her head to her stomach, a nauseating affliction started to pound. Her frame, weak as it was, could not take the strain, and so barely held together, trembling under the weight. It hurt. From the inside out, she hurt. And as of then, all she desired was for this anguish and torment to end.

In that moment, it was as though Heaven heard her, and opened up its gates, allowing Ella to receive one more gift from her beloved parents.

A blanket of warmth sheltered her from the lingering chill, provided by the rising sun. Comfort settled into her skin, its ease aiding her lungs so she could breathe. Each breath drawn in further swept in a calm that steadied her heartbeat. Slowly, but surely, the throbbing pain began to lift. As the tears came to an end, she looked once more at the objects within the crate; this time, allowing sweet memories of her golden childhood to return to the focus of her mind.

Landscapes of the times spent riding on horseback with Mother through the forests; of reading plays and poems with Father in his study; of their smiles glowing bright as a family, just the three; of all the lessons these two vibrant hearts had taught hers during their fleeting, precious moments with together—all began to come alive again.

And then—_an epiphany_.

So much, her parents had taught her. Given her so much. And through all that the Tremaines had done to her, with their avaricious grips and viperish tongues, Ella—Cinderella, even—had tried and tried and tried to to cling steadfast to the treasures they left deep within who she was. Even in the face of a storm, when again threatened to be stripped of what she cherished, fearing the unknown, she still chose to hold on. No matter what would become of her.

So how, then, could she lose to cruelty now? Give up the person she knew her parents would be proud of? Maybe, maybe… Even after all that has been torn from her… That would be enough.

The morning light now in full view, clear blue skies hung above the lands, Ella—Cinderella—turned towards the window wearing a smile that touched her eyes; as though warm brown irises, tired but full of life still, could peer into the clouds and into heaven above. As bluebirds chirped outside and the pitter patter of scurrying mice feet drew into the room, she whispered this phrase to herself, that carried her through all the trials of life—this promise, prayer, and sign of gratitude…

_Have courage, and be kind._


End file.
